


Roommate Agreement

by let2gotwoapplebee2



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-20
Updated: 2011-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-26 07:53:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/let2gotwoapplebee2/pseuds/let2gotwoapplebee2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave and Sollux fight. Sollux feels desperate. Dave feels like a failure. It sucks. Just like my descriptions.<br/>Warning: contains vaguely pretentious wordplay</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Terms Are Discussed

Dave frowns. Sitting in his lap is a bony, obstinate troll whom he has apparently grievously wronged. The troll’s ass is in his lap, but his feet are planted firmly against the couch cushions on either side of them, ready to spring into action should a Strife commence. The troll’s arms are crossed and his too many fangs are bared. ‘Wow,’ Dave thinks, ‘I must have seriously pissed him off here. But he’s still sitting in my lap, so he can’t be too mad. And who the fuck said he could sit in my lap, anyway?’

“Hey, are you even lithening, fuckhead? I’m trying to make a fucking point!”

“Who the fuck said you could sit in my lap?” This earns Dave a vicious right jab to the shoulder.

“You really are an inthufferable prick! I should’ve truthted by firtht inthinctth about you. What the fuck ever made me dethide you’d be dethent to live with?”

“Tough call, sugartits.” Another wicked jab. Dave can block these. It wouldn’t be a problem. However, when Sollux gets in a mood like this, it’s best to let him think he’s got an advantage, that he can harm, that he’s heard. What Dave wants to do is to cradle him close and stroke the back of his neck until his shaking rage dies. He wants to remind him that the reason he moved in was that Dave had insisted, and though Dave had never told Sollux this, he’d insisted because he felt the fragile Doom prophet needed protection.

And who better to protect than a Knight?

But that’s not what should happen right now. Sollux needs to burn his rage out and air whatever grievances he’s feeling at the moment. Later, Sollux will apologize miserably, curl up on the couch, and lazily eat some sort of junk food until Dave offers to play some stupid video game with him or challenges him to some asinine drinking game. But right now, Sollux needs to be angry and Dave really should be listening.

“-And I honethtly don’t underthtand how you don’t have, like, every fucking venereal ditheathe and bulgerot in exithtenthe. I mean, jeguth!-“

“Wait, this is about the people I bring home after my gigs?” This time, he gets an exasperated sigh and a sideways glance.

“Yeth, well, no. Fuck, if you were lithening, you’d know what I’m talking about, douchelord.” Dave’s lips twitch in what would have been a smile at the way Sollux lingers on the i’s in his speech before he reminds himself to listen and respond.

“Alright, so rewind then. What’s the problem. What trouble is there in paradise here.” Dave brutalizes the inflection out of his voice. To the casual eavesdropper, he hadn’t even asked questions. A massively dramatic sigh heaves Sollux’s shoulders up before tearing itself from his diaphragm.

“Okay, tho you bring people home after showth. Whatever. You’re the DJ. It happenth. What bugth me ith that you alwayth theem to find the loudetht, motht obnoxiouth, motht morning-awkward food thieveth in the club to fuck. Like, they leave thith ridiculouth glitter trail through the houthe like fucking gay Hanthel and Gretl! And then they thteal half our fridge in the morning and they leave the trash everywhere and I am NOT comfortable with the amount of foreign underwear I find throughout the houthe on Thundayth. And they alwayth theem to want to brush their teeth when I do and then it’th THO FUCKING AWKY. Like, usually they don’t make eye contact, but thith one tool dethided to hit on me WHILE I wath brusing my teeth! Like, ‘hey, tho you live here too? Damn thith apartment ith jutht full of hot pietheth of ath, ithn’t it?’ And I had to jutht be like, ‘uh, path the Lithterine?’ Like, fuck Dave! Can you at leatht take home thome tidy wallflower or thomething?” Sollux gasps for breath and Dave marvels at the fact that that actually happens in real life. He legitimately had to gasp for air after a rant.

“Kay. I’ll stop, then.”

Sollux blinks.

“What?”

“I’ll stop. If it bugs you that much, I’ll quit. You’re right, I bring home all the wrong people. The ones that go after the DJ tend to be noisy, imposing skanks, anyway.”

Sollux opens and closes his mouth uselessly. Dave Strider just agreed to stop putting his dick in things. What? He’s kidding. He’s joking, lying, being ironic. He did not just agree to a self-imposed dry spell because of a hissy fit. No. Nonono.

“Well, Dave, I… I mean, you don’t have to quit hooking up or whatever. I don’t want to cockblock you, I jutht-“

“No. I’m not gonna make my roommate miserable. You live here just as much as I do.”

“But, I- Wait. What’th the catch?”

“Catch?”

“There hath to be a catch if you’re going to thtop pailing with anyone and everyone you want jutht becauthe I thtarted whining-“

“Hey, can you not mention buckets? Pretty sure that stopped being a thi-“

“Anthwer my quethtion, Dave.”

Dave quiets himself a moment, trying to optimize his benefit here. Something in his head is shouting “HEY NOW DO THIS NOW TELL TALK NOW DO DO DO,” while a more rational part is saying that this might be an overwhelming way to confess to someone that you think you might be in love with them. It might be a bit much to say that he’s been interested since before they moved in together and that, after about four months of life with Sollux, he thinks he just might have capital F Feelings for him. He thinks it might be scary to admit to him that he might understand troll pity and that he thinks he doesn’t want Sollux to move out when their lease is up in a year. But Sollux is there, in his lap, and he doesn’t know what other chance he might get.

“There isn’t a catch. I’m gonna make you an offer, though.” Dave permits his drawl to slip through, perhaps laying on the disarming charm a little too thick.

“U-uhh… I… Wh-what?” Sollux’s lips twitch a bit, trying to form words that he can’t quite think of. Yes, Dave Strider has used too much charm.

“Well,” Dave begins slowly, “I’m definitely going to stop bringing obnoxious people home. That is still a thing and it isn’t going to stop being a thing. And if you say no to my offer, I’ll only be bringing non-obnoxious people into the Strider Den.”

Sollux nods carefully, unsure where Dave is going. “And if I thay yeth?”

“Then I won’t bring home anyone at all.”

“And what ith my end of the bargain, here?”

Dave bites at the inside of his bottom lip, invisibly but for the small divot indent it causes outwardly. “Your end,” he sets his palms on Sollux’s knees, “is that you stop going home with assholes from the club.”

Sollux’s brows furrow deeply. “You’re going to have to define your conditionth here. Ith it that I can only go home with nithe guyth, I can only bring them home, or no more fuckthieth for Thol? Becauthe there’th a huge fucking differenthe between all of thothe.”

“None of the above,”Dave says flatly, “Guess the fuck again.”

“Ath hole, there ITH no other option.”

Dave slides his palms down off the side of Sollux’s knees and grips lightly. “Yes. There. Is,” he grumbles as pointedly as he can manage. This isn’t going how he planned. This was supposed to be smoother, more romantic. The lights were supposed to be dimmer and Sollux was supposed to be spitting less venom. Fuck, Sollux is too oblivious. If he can’t figure it out, it isn’t on his mind, which means Dave isn’t on his mind, which means he doesn’t want Dave, which means Dave has just ruined everything and-

“Dave?” Sollux just whispers, jerking Dave from his terrified mental ramblings with a physical twitch. Well, more of a flinch, really.

“Yeah, what?” He glazes, coolly, raising his eyebrows a fraction. This is better. If he ruins everything, he can at least do it with his dignity and pokerface intact. Even if this means Sollux is going to leave him alone in the apartment with nothing but his swords, shades and Feelings.

“Dave, are you thuggethting what I think you are? Becauthe that ithn’t shit to joke about. Like, fake flirtationth are thtopping here and I am finding out exactly what’th full of shit and what ithn’t. No more mething with my head until thith converthation ith over. Then, sure, back to whatever. But right now, no bullshit. None of it.”

“Woah, hey, chill,” Dave says, lifting his hands off Sollux’s legs in surrender, “Getting a little intense there. Didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“Heh. Eheheh. Y-yeah, no, it’th chill. Don’t worry about it. Tho yeah, uh, let’th not blue ball ourthelveth. I’ll try and only go home with nithe guyth, though, if it maketh you feel better.” The laugh is hollow, but Dave convinces himself it’s because what he did was just genuinely unfunny. He cracks a smirk.

“Solid. I worry about you, kid.”

“Hey, fuck off. I’m not a kid. And you don’t have to worry about me.” The way Sollux’s voice softens is a little too sincere. “Fuck thith shit. It’th boothe time.” Dave chuckles as the wiry troll bounds over him and the couch into their tiny kitchen. He feels freezing without the extra body heat, but figures it’s nothing a little bourbon can’t fix.

Until he sees Sollux retreating to his room with the bottle of Woodford and no glass.

Alright, nothing a lot of peach schnapps can’t fix.


	2. Breakdown in Negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave is miserable. Decidedly shorter chapter.

Dave Strider leans back in his chair and stares up at the ceiling. Unlike his roommate, he’d at least had the class and dignity to grab a tumbler for his booze of choice. There’s a stain in the corner of the ceiling from a leak in his upstairs neighbor’s bathroom a few months ago. The ceiling at large looks like it’s just a haphazard spackle mural. It’s dull and a grayish off-white. His walls are a rich, light absorbing maroon, a change he made within a week of moving in, but the ceiling has stayed its repulsive, pulpish grayish self. Dave is pondering the ceiling because it’s better than his alternatives. Through the paper thin wall, he can hear Sollux pounding away at some code, keystrokes coming more frequently as he presumably slides into drunkenness. The syrupy liquor in Dave’s stomach churns itself as a whimper ghosts through the wall.

Dave ignores the tumbler and swigs from the bottle. The sweetness is nearly overpowering, but he feels the burn and that’s the part he needs right now. He has just stared everything he’s wanted for a little over a year in the face and said, “yeah, thanks but no thanks.” And now, that self-same Everything is whimpering over his computer with some bourbon in the next room. Because Dave can’t handle Feelings. Because Dave would rather be alone with Everything living with him than have Everything and lose him. No, because Dave is a coward and is scared of having Everything at all in the first place because that means showing his Feelings and letting someone in and not being the impenetrable Knight he thinks he should be.

Ceiling. Back to the ceiling. Actually, back to the schnapps. Dave drinks deeply, trying to ignore the nausea the saccharine sweet brings. He drinks entirely too much too soon, but he finds himself giving fewer and fewer fucks because he’s already drinking alone and stewing in his hugest fuckup yet.

Ceiling. Ceiling. Ceiling.

Dave remembers the last time he stared so intently at the ceiling. When he’d first moved in, Sollux was still having his gruesome nightmares. Everyone dying horrific deaths, seeing himself in pools of blood, typical Doom prophet/evil hellgame survivor fare. After a few nights of being kept awake by screams and sobs, Dave had gone to Sollux and invited him to try and get to sleep next to him. The troll’s response had been awkward and suspicious at first, but the sleep loss weighed heavier than his mistrust. 2 AM that morning found Dave staring intently at the ceiling as Sollux snored gently into his neck. The ceiling was his friend, helping him convince himself that only the arm around the troll’s shoulders was necessary, that he shouldn’t touch more, that his boner can shut its whore mouth because it’s not coming out to play, no sir. 5 AM noticed that Dave was still awake, still communing with the top of his room. Sollux shifted against Dave, raising his head groggily.

“Daaave…” he grumbled quietly.

“Hm?”

“Thankth for thleeping with me.”

Dave flushed at the unintentioned implications, before stammering out a hopeless, “’S’cool.”

Dave chokes on a terrible combination of bile and Feelings as he wrenches himself from the memory. He coughs and hunches back over his desk, shaking more than he would ever admit. A strangled sound squeezes past the lump in his throat. He bites a knuckle, trying to keep any other errant noises in. With his free hand, he slips his glasses off, setting them on the table, and tears at his hair. His stomach feels slashed into ribbons and there’s an ache in his chest. He is entirely too warm, and the only solution he can think of is more time with his beloved friend, peach schnapps. He downs a few gulps and then he hears it.

There’s a noise on the other side of the wall. It’s soft and Dave doesn’t want to know what it is, but his feet are pulling him to the wall. Schnapps still in hand, he leans an ear against the barely inches thick plaster. A wracking sob hits his ears quietly, but it bears all of the weight of his Everything. Everything is on the other side of the wall, likely on his bed, sobbing for all he’s worth, and something in Dave breaks. He slides down the wall, not daring to take his ear from it, not daring to move away from Sollux or his pain.

He rolls his head so that the crown stays pressed against the wall and greets the ceiling again, now with bare eyes. He chokes a sob in his throat. He swears silently to the ceiling that he’ll be a better Knight, that he won’t hurt Sollux again, that he wants Everything and that he’ll take care of him. He just wants Everything to be okay.

But right now he’s not. And it’s his fault. He’s a shitty Knight, if he hurts who he tries to protect.

Dave’s stomach tenses and wrenches abruptly and he scrambles to his trash can. He hunches over it, retching up the sickly sweet liquor and not much else. He sobs hopelessly, but if asked, he would blame it on the alcohol and the vomiting. He slumps to his trash can’s side, curling around it, letting his sobs rock him to sleep.

In the next room, Sollux is curled against the wall, listening to his Knight break, letting his sobs rock him to sleep.


	3. Escrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't like this chapter nearly as much, but it has to be there, so bluh.

Sollux Captor wakes up with what his anatomy class has identified for him as sore ischial tuberosities and tension across his scapulae, as well as a nasty case of dehydration. What this means for him is a hell of a hangover plus a sore back and ass from sleeping sitting on the floor. He groans, wondering how in the hell he got to where he is when the smell of bacon hits his nose. In this moment, the only important thing in his life is the securing of this bacon for his own. Sliding his long-since discarded glasses back onto his face, he blinks disconcertedly before stumbling from his room. It’s only about twenty feet down the hall, from his room to the kitchen, if that, but Sollux feels a unique sense of solidarity with Odysseus as he leans heavily against the wall and staggers toward both bacon and Advil.

As he stumbles into the living room/kitchen/dining room bastard child, the hooded figure sulking over the skillet on the stovetop reminds him with crushing force why his shoulders hurt and, moreover, why he’s hungover. Hunched over the range, trembling slightly, Dave Strider pokes at some bacon with a spatula. He looks for all the world as though, if he could be wearing two pairs of sunglasses, he would be. He barely grunts a greeting to Sollux, tossing him a bottle of water and some painkillers faster than the troll’s still-waking brain can quite process. The pill bottle slaps him in the chest and the water bottle flies past his left arm; both falling lamely to the ground. Sollux still can’t see the face buried in the hood, but he doesn’t need to to know that Dave is struggling and straining to keep his cool act up. He’s pushing with every ounce that can push to pretend last night never happened. Dave’s in tiny, tiny pieces and, as he stares at the stretch of red cotton on the Knight’s back, Sollux feels himself falling into just as many shattered fragments.

A million scenarios run through the troll’s head. He sees himself setting understanding hands on his Knight’s hips, nestling his chin onto the rigid shoulder and feeling it relax under him. He yanks the hood down and shouts in Dave’s ear that he’s an idiot for pushing him away. He slaps the skillet off the stove. He shoves the human around for a passionate kiss. He runs to his room and locks the door, never to leave. He runs to his room, locks the door, and climbs out the window, never to return. He wraps his bony arms around Dave’s waist and sobs into his shoulder that he’s sorry. He sobs into his shoulder that he’s flushed for him. He sobs into his shoulder that he hates him and it hurts so damned bad. He just sobs wordlessly into his shoulder. He runs to his room and locks the door, never to leave… after he gets some bacon.

Deciding the last scenario to be the most agreeable, or at least a good start, Sollux wearily bends down to pick up the water and Aspirin (or rather, Walsprin) and takes maybe one or two more of the pills than he really should have. He shuffles to the counter, replaces the Walsprin on the makeshift medicine shelf. Moving only barely as much as needed, Dave scoots the bacon from the skillet onto a paper towel-covered plate with a spatula and throws a few more raw strips than necessarily fit into the pan to resume cooking. Seeing a golden opportunity, Sollux swipes the plate, maple syrup, and a jug of orange juice and retreats to his room. It isn’t until the door is locked and he’s dipping the first strip of bacon into some maple syrup that he realizes he hadn’t said a single word to Dave.

Dave had at least grunted at him.

A rather rude thought points out to Sollux that This Is Stupid. If he just goes to Dave and is honest and upfront with his Feelings, then Dave has to either be straightforward or pay rent in full. The thought is told to kindly go fuck itself and is promptly drowned in bacon. None mourn its passing. It had been founded on the hilariously and wildly inaccurate notion that Dave could be cornered into talking about Feelings by Sollux showing his hand.

Sollux almost snorts his OJ at the notion. More bacon. He takes another swig of the orange juice and can’t quite shake the feeling that it needs vodka, but vodka is in the kitchen and so is Dave. Or maybe it’s in the living room, under the sofa, but that still puts Sollux in the same predicament. A deep frown slashes his face, but it is salved with more maple-dipped bacon. Behind him, on his desk, his abandoned Sound Design III project starts to poke at him, as if to remind that it never stopped being a thing that he needed to do.

Inspiration twofold hits Sollux. This is a Big Damn Project. He needs to get it done in a timely fashion. Also, he has enough food, water, and booze stored in his room to last three days, even with more conservative of estimates. He has a decent reason and solid means not to leave his room for the rest of the weekend. He could hole himself up in his room until Dave came begging to make reparations, or at least check in on him and reveal some sort of fuck-giving. He would make Dave wonder and worry just as much as he had for the past several weeks. The perfect plan.

But Dave had at least made a noise at him. Had that been an attempt at reaching out? Or had it been hostile? Should he go back out and see what the stupid Knight was doing or should he continue to leave him be? The forced distancing hurts his chest, but being toyed with hurts more. Sollux sits on his hands, paralyzed with indecision, still unmoved from his spot in the middle of his floor.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Frustrated with both himself and the Knight, Sollux heaves himself to his desk and shoves his headphones on to work at his Sound Design. He isn’t sure if he’s going to sequester himself away in spite or just hack at his project, but if he’s going to be moody he’s going to be productive about it. While he’s at it, he does have the logistical shitstack that is his Advanced Coding project. Perhaps at least one good thing can come of this shit yet.


	4. Wait, What the Fuck Is Escrow?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that took forever. Also, this is long as hell. And there's some blood in there. And more boys being upset. I'm kind of afraid Sollux may have peaked with his bacon, guys. Sorry.  
> May be edited wildly at a later date when I inevitably decide I hate how half of it sounds.

Dave triple checks the contents of the tray in front of him: pizza rolls, carrot sticks, ranch dressing, bottle of apple juice, tube of toothpaste, toothbrush, bottle of shampoo, towel, bucket of water. He stares down the door of his now 3 days hiding flatmate and rectifies his erect and stressed posture into a much cooler slouch. Satisfied with his stance, he leans forward, knocks twice on Sollux’s door, and glides in without waiting for an answer.

At the desk sits a visibly thinner Sollux, teetering on the brink of mania. He types furiously at something, backspacing often. Headphones are clamped over his ears, the bridge wrapped around the back of his head. Dave is at his side in a blink, thrusting the tray into the troll’s face. Sollux jumps and whips to face the intruder.

“Whoa, hey, what the fuck? When did you come in?”

“Doesn’t matter. Eat. Drink water. Then shower. You haven’t left the room in three days and you smell like ass.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever, I’ve kind of got shit here-“

“You are literally wasting away before my eyes. I am legitimately concerned that your ribs are about to slice through you. Eat. Now.”

“And I literally jutht made thome fucking progreth here. I am legitimately contherned for my grade on thith, tho I’m going to work. Now.”

“Dude, can you not with the hostility? I’m just trying to make sure you fucking live. Excuse the shit outta me for giving a flying fuck.”

“Pardon granted. Now, if you’ll get your ath out of my fucking room, I’d appreciate it.”

“I’m not leaving until you take a bite of fucking something.”  
Sollux rises to his feet and savors the two inches he has on Dave. He takes a step toward the Knight to eliminate the distance between them and a small part of him crows with pride when Dave takes a reflexive step back. Even if it’s just an unconscious gesture, a cruel part of Sollux’s heart sings at the thought of intimidating Dave. He takes another step, but this time, Dave stays put. Their chests are flush as Sollux pours every ounce of menace he can muster out of mismatched eyes.

“Dave, ith thith about to be a problem?”

Dave’s mouth twitches for the briefest moment into a scowl.

“What problem? I don’t see any problem besides you being skinny and smelly.”

“Lithen, I’m only going to athk one more time. Dave, pleathe get your freckles ath out of my fucking room.”

“Oh, babe, why you gotta be like that?” Dave maintains what Sollux can only assume to be eye contact from behind his shades and smirks cruelly. It’s a challenge.

Sollux takes the bait.

In an instant, his teeth are bared and he’s pulling his elbows out to strike with wicked claws.

However, with Dave, an instant is too slow. There’s an elbow in his side and his legs are swept out from under him, leaving him on his ass before anything sharp can really sink in to Dave. Sollux lashes for an ankle, catching and tearing pant leg, shredding a shoe. Dave crashes hard to the floor and Sollux leaps atop him before he’s quite processed what’s happened. He wrenches a knee hard into the side of Dave’s pelvis and Dave knocks a solid uppercut to his bottom jaw. His blood flows from somewhere in or around his mouth, though he’s not sure where. He spits at Dave, but misses wildly when Dave flips the pair of them, pinning Sollux’s wrists mercilessly to the wooden floor.

Sollux gasps at the flushed, freckled ass over him and chokes on some wicked combination of blood and saliva. Dave’s glasses have slid down his sweat-slicked nose and red irises spark at the troll. The Knight’s chest and shoulders heave as he stares at the astonishingly scrappy troll underneath him, taking a moment to inwardly appreciate how much strength he can still muster after three foodless days.

Those red Eyes.

Sollux gapes, terrified, overwhelmed, and coughs again on the increasingly repulsive mixture in his mouth. He can see those Eyes and they’re looking at him with a sort of rage-filled fascination—a hate-tinted admiration. In the pit of Sollux’s stomach, something boils and he can’t be bothered to stay down any longer.

Dave blinks, dumbfounded, at the mess he’s made. He’s gone and done it again, holding his pride before Everything and now Everything is lying there, bleeding, blinking at him like a moron and

Hooking a leg around Dave’s own

And mashing his too-sharp mouth against Dave’s own.

The taste of foreign blood hits Dave’s mouth and there’s something wrong about it. It tastes metallic, but like the wrong sort of metal. One of several sharp teeth cuts his lip and, with a control subject, the foreign taste is amplified. It is, of course, a distraction. He doesn’t want to think about how or why a mouthful of blood urged Sollux to kiss him. He doesn’t want to think that Sollux might be feeling weird troll hatelove. He doesn’t want to think of everything he’s done to deserve that hate. Instead, he’s going to wonder what metal is in Sollux’s blood.

And then sharpskinny hands start sneaking around where they don’t belong and Dave can’t give two shits if Sollux has cobalt or nickel or fucking unobtanium in his veins because nerve in his body is on alert. One is tangled just a bit too hard in his hair and the other is scratching a bit too deep down his back. It all feels ow fuck amazing ow fuck and Dave is bewildered, panting, and deeply regretting being on top if he’s going to be so fucking clueless. Dave thinks a moment that he really has to hand it to his tongue. The little guy has been holding his own in foreign territory, largely unsupervised, and isn’t making a total mess of himself.

Sollux is really hating being a crazy mutant freak. Granted, he always does, but in this moment, he finds himself particularly resenting it, as the part of himself he thought he drowned in bacon has made a full recovery just in time to ruin a perfectly good hatesnog.

“Hey,ath hole,” it says, because he even thinks in a lisp because apparently, not a single aspect of him is allowed to be normal, “Thith ithn’t hate and you know it. Thothe Feelingth from earlier are thtill red and biting the shit out of Dave ithn’t going to change that.”

“Shut up,” Sollux growls into Dave’s mouth, before coughing again. He turns his head to cough more, finally rolling to his side and spitting out the repulsive accumulation of blood-spit he’d only barely realized he’d oh-so-charmingly dribbled out. It’s a puddle of cloudy red and yellow swirls around a sickly orange blob. He feels Dave’s confusion in his shaking arms and hesitant breath. He feels the concern in the way Dave shifts his weight to cradle in his hand the upper arm Sollux isn’t laying on. He hears it all in Dave’s voice when he risks a whisper.

“What the hell was that?”

“I… dunno.”

“Here, let me help you out. I came in your room and gave you food, you tried to kick me out. I got sassy, you got physical. You tackled me, I pinned you. You commenced some intense, bloody makeouts. I think I understood it mostly until that last bit and that’s kind of crucial right now.”

“It wath a hate kith, ath fathe.”

Dave’s heart rams itself into his spine and his lungs turn to dry ice.

“Wow, could you have lisped that sentence any harder?”

“Dave, shut up. I don’t actually fucking hate you.”

“Then why the hate kith?”

Sollux throws an elbow to Dave’s sternum and Dave knows he deserved it. The troll then curls in on himself under Dave’s torso and he feels his stomach try to escape through his belly button. He is convinced there is no worse person on the planet than himself.

“I’m jutht,” the bag of bones chokes a moment, “I’m jutht confuthed. Really confuthed. Dave, I don’t hate you. I can’t hate you.”

“Sol, I… I don’t hate you either? I mean, I really-“

“Dave, could you maybe head out for a bit? I need thome… I think I need thome time to think.”

“But Sol, I-“

“Dave! I need some fucking time. Leave me alone.”

Dave presses to his feet, numb. Time. Right. He backs toward the door slowly.

“J-just lemme know if you need anything, yeah Sol?”

“Yeah kay,” Sollux mumbles, still in a painful ball. Dave swears he hears his voice break. He can’t see the troll’s face, but he can see his shaking shoulders.

He shuts the door behind him and rounds the corner into his own room. He jacks his headphones into his tables and sets to his own work, begging himself not to hear the mess he’s made in the other room. Blood still drips from the scratches on his back, though the trail down his chin has dried. This shirt is completely fucked and his scalp is still tender. His heart is still wrapped around his spine, his stomach still at his belly button and his lungs still made of burning dry ice. His ankle feels a little fucksy, his ass just might be bruised, and there’s definitely going to be marks on his knees. He has a show in five hours.

Dave sighs as his hands melt onto the tables, mindlessly twisting songs together. He needs a shower and a fuck ton of bandaids. And some flowers. And some candles. And a bottle of damn good wine. And maybe a suit. As music yields under his trained fingers, he drives himself at something, anything, that might cheer Sollux up or show him how he feels or serve as something in the direction of an apology.

He gets nothing.

The mixes he’s half-assedly mashing sound like ass and the plans he’s cobbling together are pathetic and shallow. For now, he thinks, he needs to just practice and focus and eventually shower because there’s not a damn thing he can do right now or even soon that can bring Sollux around.

Because Sollux needs time.


	5. Yup, I Really Don’t Know Any More Real Estate Terms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dave DJs, Sollux dances, and a whole bunch of my headcanons rear their ugly heads. Also, some fluff. I swear.

Once the mix hits the meat of the song and Dave can let it sit a moment, he sweeps his eyes back out over the club. Gorgeous, thoughtless, flawless Sollux is dancing with anything better than a 7, regardless of gender. There’s a sloppy bitch flopped over on his dick. She has a pink streak in her hair and, the way she tosses her hair around, it’s clear she thinks it makes her hot shit. A part of Dave bets he’d look hot with a red streak, but quickly 86’s the idea when Sollux simply turns and walks away from her. Salty.

Dave frowns as Sollux shuffles out the side door for a smoke in the club’s patio. A tall beefy blonde follows him out and Dave wonders if he should eat more protein or hit the gym more. The Official Party Coordinator pokes her head and fake tits in the room and shouts something about needing a run of Top 40 mixes next. Dave tosses her his best Chin Tilt of Acknowledgement and queues up a tacky Ke$ha mix. He slips his Way Too Expensive headphones back on and crowd watches while he slowly weaves in some trashy pop-yodeling.

A general sweep reveals Blondy Beefo ducking back in, tail between his legs. Dave’s exercise regimen remains unchanged. A completely blitzed blue-haired girl in the middle of the floor is waving up at his window. The Chin Tilt of Acknowledgement makes an encore performance. A tiny tank top is tugged up and a titillating pair of ta-ta’s taunt him from below. He deals a gratuitous head tilt and slides a slow lick across his upper lip. The smirk pulling in his cheek isn’t so much from the exposure of titflesh as it is self-congratulation for a truly excellent alliteration. He knows what’s going to happen. She’s going to try and catch him after the show and he’ll likely get some sloppy makeouts from the deal. On a different night, he might have taken her home. Maybe. Before his agreement with Sollux. But not tonight and probably not ever.

Somehow, Dave isn’t too upset over the loss.

He moves his eyes again and catches sight of Sollux again. He’s nipping at his lower lip, playing with his shirt hem. Dave scowls, wondering why he even bothers. Christ’s sake, it’s a loose-ass crop top. What is it even trying to hide? Sollux is making the most absurd of bedroom eyes at some pompous-looking, lanky blonde kid. Oh, very mature Sol, Dave thinks. He fumes as he moves to the next song. There’s a knock at the booth door behind him and he twists, scowling, yanking an ear of his headphones off. He swears loudly when the edge catches on the black stud in his ear. Clearly startled, The Official Party Coordinator blinks dumbly before giving an enthusiastic thumbs up and a bounce of her silicone and darting back out the door. Dave sighs and gingerly taps at his now tender ear. He rights his headphones and pokes around his earlobes to adjust his piercings to a less stabby angle.

He looks back out the window to see Sollux dancing emphatically to the bass-rich Adele mix with his doppelganger. He frowns with vigor and gusto anew as he makes a note of every difference he can see between the substitute and himself. This asshole is shorter than him, lacking in freckles, only has one ear pierced and it’s some gaudy massive rock, has his hair brushed forward in some kind of mop rather than his own artful part, has less lean muscle to him, and is just generally inferior, so Dave decides. As he moves on to criticize the fake’s fashion choices and dancing, Sollux snakes an arm around his neck and Dave 2.0 steals a sloppy kiss. Dave feels a stab in his chest and twists his focus on to finding wherever Miss Blue Hair got to. Satisfied with the realization that she’s made it to the bar yet again, he lines up what his watch tells him will be the last song of his rather successful set.

As his swan song melts out from the track before it, Dave preps the tables for the DJ who would close he night up and does another sweeping check for Sollux. He frowns upon realizing that the trampy bag of bones is nowhere to be found. Neither, for that matter, is UnDave. He grunts, scowls, and throws his shit into his bag, making way for DJ Buttons to step in smoothly. Outside the booth, The Official Party Coordinator gives him another enthusiastic grin and bounce, saying some sort of praise that he doesn’t quite care enough to hear over the throbbing bass.

He shuffles to the bar, seeing no point in catching the cab home sober and unkissed. Before he’s said a word, the bartender has read him with ease and slides him a whiskey on the rocks. Blue-Haired Girl swoops in to fawn over his arm and he pays her a reasonable amount of attention while nursing his drink. As he reaches the bottom, she leans over and whispers something incoherent in his ear before running her tongue around the shell of it. Dave swallows a shudder, leaves a tip on the bar and follows her out to the patio.

He can’t say in good conscience that he’s drunk, but there’s a pleasant warmth in him and that’s good enough. As the Girl shoves him up against the wall outside, Dave muses that he doesn’t know her name. She bites and licks at his lips and he wonders what town she grew up in. She’s pressed flush against him, sighing into his mouth as he gropes at her ass and ponders at how often she dyes her hair. She licks a sloppy trail down his neck. He stares at the night sky and wonders which lights are stars and which are airplanes. All the while, his skin heats up and a skinnysharp figure looms in the back of his mind. He takes a solid tug at her hair and she moans loudly as she messily slides her lips back across his. She’s wedged a thigh between his own and he wonders just how okay with that he is. He wonders how okay with that Sollux would be. Not Dave flashes behind his eyelids and he decides that Sollux would just have to be fine with it. He slides broad hands up her sides and jolts shamefully when she slides herself down his torso. Everything in his head is doing cartwheels and screaming NONONO as she slides a small and feminine and not skinnysharp hand to his fly.

He shifts his weight to run back inside and make the least cool getaway in history when a tinny, peppy ringtone blares from the Girl’s cleavage. She abandons her ministrations entirely to answer the call, still squatting in front of him. She chitters loudly to someone, presumably male, and Dave slumps his shoulders in relief. She sits back onto the ground, now entirely absorbed and half-screeching to the other person. Dave neatly sidesteps, shooting her a curt wave, which she returns emphatically before resuming full focus on the conversation that Dave had pieced together to be relationship reparations. He glances at the Chairman Mao watch Sollux had picked up for him a few months ago in a sketchy thrift store. 3 AM is a lot closer than he remembers it being. He whips out his phone, rings a cab, and finds himself on his apartment’s doorstep inside of a half hour.

Recalling Sollux and UnDave’s tandem disappearance, Dave jams his key in the lock and swings the door wide, still mulling over his reluctance with the Girl, since Sol clearly hadn’t had the same qualms. He flips the light on and starts and the grumble and creak he hears. He peeks around the corner to see Sollux flung haphazardly across the couch, fast asleep, open beer bottle standing beside a skinnysharp hand left to dangle off the edge. He’s snoring softly, blanketless, and –most importantly- UnDaveless. Dave quickly slides the dimmer on the lights to the lowest setting, before turning around to face the kitchen and assess any drunken damage done. Pleasantly surprised, Dave sees not a culinary rampage, but a plate of dino chicken nuggets, pizza rolls, and instant mashed potatoes with an index card and a Capri Sun lying beside it. He allows himself a soft chuckle before picking up the card to read it.

Something burns behind his eyes and he turns back to see the gorgeous sack of coat hangers lying across their couch. The broad but thin chest rises and falls slowly, but the pair of dark sharp brows is knit together too tightly for comfortable sleep. Dave gently sets the card down, shuffling to his room and grabbing a pillow and blanket. He cautiously lifts the sleeping head to tuck the pillow under and tenderly wraps the blanket around Everything before permitting himself a soft smile. He takes a sharpie and adds his reply to the card, settling it next to the beer bottle by Sollux’s hand and takes the plate and Capri Sun back to his own room for a slightly cold but perfect late night snack before crashing and sleeping until noon.

The next morning, Sollux is surprised when his fingers graze paper instead of hardwood. He lifts the obnoxiously yellow index card to his face and feels a catch in his throat when he reads it. A grin threatens to break his face and waiting for Dave to wake up and make breakfast is suddenly the most difficult thing he can think of. He clutches the paper to his chest, though he’ll never admit he did, cherishing the simple scribbles across it.

 _2orry_

 _me too_


	6. Shh, Only Meta Chapter Titles Now...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think we're almost done here. This one happened fast and I think it might be the longest. Featuring alarmclock!Sollux.

“…ve… ave…”

Dave grumbles and frowns. Who in god’s name is pestering him before sundown on a weekend? He makes a mental note to leave his phone on silent more often on weekends.

“Dave. Dave. Dave. Dave.”

He grunts and screws his eyes shut tighter. His phone sounds weird. He reaches over to his bedside table to grab it, but finds something slender   
and solid in his way. He frowns deeper.

“DaveDaveDaveDaveDave”

Dave pops his eyes open to figure out what the hell is up and

That’s not a phone. That’s not a phone at all.

Everything is on his bed, on all fours, pinning him in place, chanting his name. He decides to ignore how uncannily similar it is to one of his fantasies, instead opting to absorb some details to make this seem more normal. Sollux is still in his clothes from the night before, down to the flimsy crop top and the red and blue suede cords wrapped around his wrist that Dave had picked up for him at a craft store. A permeating minty scent tells Dave that, unlike himself, Sollux has had the opportunity to brush his teeth already today. The way the thin, cornflower shirt hangs off his shoulders, Dave can see the entirety of Sollux’s torso and he’s more than okay with this and oh-

Oh fuck. If he keeps on noticing things like this, shit is going to get real awkward real fast.

“DAVEDAVEDAVEDAVEDAVE”

“Fuck! What!”

“Breakfatht?” the troll chirps.

“Fuck. What even time is it?”

“Noon. Learn to English, numb nutth.”

“Fuck that shit. Not cookin shit.”

“Then we’re going out. Get drethed.”

“I- um, hey. Can we, like, talk and shit?”

Sollux blinks and plops his ass down on Dave’s still-blanketed thighs. He looks decidedly less chipper and more unsure.

“Um, yeah. That… That would probably be good, I gueth.”

Dave props himself up on his elbows, blankets shifting down his bare chest. He feels naked, but it’s less his lack of shirt and more his lack of shades. It’s for the best, though, he tells himself. He doesn’t need and shouldn’t have any walls right now. This is it. The Big Feelings Talk.

“So, I… So, last night…”

“Yeah?”

“You went to the club.“

“…Yeah?”

“Why?”

“I alwayth go when you have showth.”

“Sometimes you skip. I kind of figured you’d skip tonight.” It comes out as more of an accusation and Dave wonders if that’s actually how he means it. Sollux shifts on his thighs and the corner of Dave’s mouth quirks.

“I… I needed to get out and not think. I needed to kith thomeone and have it not mean anything. I… doeth that make thenthe?”

Dave thinks of Blue-Haired Girl and nods.

“Yeah. I think I get that. But…”

“I did what I normally do, but it felt-“

“Wrong, like it wouldn’t quite set right in your gut?”

“Yeah, that’th… Yeah. Who… Who all did you thee?”

“Which contestants did I see try valiantly, only to fall flat on their faces? Well, there was Bitch with a Pink Streak in her Hair, Blondy Beefo, and my inferior doppelganger.” Sollux chuckles guiltily over the last person.

“Eheheh, you caught me. I… Wath it really that obviouth?”

“I figured I was being paranoid and egotistical, so yes? No? Dunno. Either way, he was a downgrade. Seriously. Why go after that when you live with this?”

“I…” Sollux trails off and can’t look at Dave for a moment. They’d both been skittish of eye contact to this point, but Sollux can’t seem to even settle his eyes near the Knight underneath him. Dave swears at himself, positive he’s said the wrong thing; that he’s fucked up yet again. “The biggetht dithappointment wath that he didn’t have freckleth.” A flush creeps up from Dave’s chest and he looks down his arm, taking in the gingery flecks he didn’t realize Sollux liked.

“So, I didn’t see you or him leave. How’d that go?”

“Probably the thame ath you and that bitch with blue hair.”

“Sloppy makeouts that ended with you pussying out of getting a blowjob? I doubt that.”

“Well, there were thloppy makeoutth and me puthying out, but no bj’th involved. Theriouthly? You turned down a blowjob?”

“Not turned down, so much as really didn’t want it and then fate conspired in my favor. It’s an embarrassing story.”

“Eheh, I gueth it would be. Tho, uh… Breakfatht?” Dave only just keeps himself from frowning. This Feelings business still wasn’t what he would call sorted out and he had Everything his lap so dammit, why did he say

“Yeah. Sounds good. Gimme ten and I’ll meet you by the door.”

Sollux nods and hops up.

“Yeah, I should probably change.”

“What, you mean you don’t want to be gawked at and lusted after by everyone we cross today?”

“Pff, Dave, that’th not what-“

“Oh yes it is. Now go put on something less trampy. There’s a good boy.”

Sollux huffs and rounds the corner into his own room while Dave indulges in a self-satisfied chuckle. He rolls out of his bed and grabs his   
shades. He snickers to himself as he grabs a pair of indecently red boxer-briefs from his drawer to wear for his entertainment and his alone. He shucks the boxers he slept in when he hears a

“Hey Da- Jethuth, they’re fucking everywhere!”

Dave practically leaps into his newly selected unders and shoots the troll in his doorway a murderous glare.

“Okay, one: when you leave me to change, fucking let me change. Two: why the fuck didn’t you close my door. Three: why the fuck didn’t you knock. And motherfucking four: what the hell, exactly, is it that’s everywhere?”

“F-freckleth,” Sollux squeaks out between giggles, “You even have thome on your ath!”

Dave grabs the closest thing to his hand, an empty beer can, and flings it at Sollux.

“Shut your whore mouth and let my freckled ass get dressed in peace!”

Sol slams the door shut, but Dave can still hear him giggling through their tragically thin walls. A warmth in his chest spreads through him and a soft smile drifts across his face before he remembers that, oh yeah, he’s not a total puss and resumes dressing.

Deciding that the hipster aesthetic would be most ironic for a breakfast date with a troll, he tosses on a self-satisfied smirk as he digs masterfully tight pants and a loose a-shirt from his drawers and the most massive of cardigans from his armoire. The beautiful finishing touch is a straw fedora so repulsively pretentious, Eridan openly lusts after it. Pocketing his wallet and slapping his beloved Chairman Mao watch on his wrist, Dave declares himself ready to face the world and embarrass the fuck out of Sollux. He hurriedly brushes his teeth, eager to show his favorite Doom prophet exactly what he must be seen in public with. He could never tell Sollux just how proud he was of his exasperating wardrobe, but he got the feeling the troll knew, just as well.

Minty fresh and doucheriffic, Dave marches down the hall, presenting himself with pride to an entirely-too-pedestrian Sollux. The result is not what he’d anticipated. Sollux blinks at him behind freshly polished glasses.

“Dave,” he begins quietly, “I… What are you…” Dave stares him down, poker face unfussed by the new reaction. Sollux’s sharp brows knit together as he lifts himself from his perch against the back of the couch. As the Doom prophet closes the distance between them, a sort of nervousness floods Dave’s chest. Seriously, he wonders, why is Sollux being so weird about this? Why isn’t he just laughing or groaning like he usually does? Why isn’t he just shoving me out the door?

Skinnysharp hands slip into Dave’s ridiculous cardigan on either side, sliding around his ribcage and lacing fingertips against his spine. He seems to be glaring at Dave’s collarbones, frustrated with something Dave hasn’t quite figured out yet.

“Hey there, buckaroo, anything I can do for ya?”

“Dave, I know you’re trying to be thtupid and ironic, but thith ith… I…”

“What?”

Sollux locks eyes with him. A flush suddenly colors his cheeks and all of his focus and intensity is gone. He darts his hands back to his pockets and mutters a simple, “Nevermind.”

Realization dawns across Dave. “No. Nuh-uh. No fuckin way. You like this shit? What, should I grow a fucking handlebar moustache to match? Oh god, this is precious! You have a thing for hipsters! How did I even not notice?”

“No, you thtupid grubfuck. I have a fucking thing for YOU. How did you even not notithe?”

The inches between them suddenly feel like a clear-plastic wall. Dave frowns to hear his words thrown back at him.

“Who the fuck ever said I didn’t notice? Moreoever, where the fuck do you get off, getting mad at me for not noticing shit?”

“What are you even talking about? All you’ve ever done ith get weirded out by a hate kith!”

“Bull fucking shit! I…” Dave loses steam, realizing he’s lost his cool. Again, this is not how this is supposed to go. Not at all. There’s supposed to be a tender caress. Sollux is supposed to swoon in his arms as he tangles fingers in his hair and nibbles at his ear and neck. They’re supposed to gently press fingertips together and cautiously close the distance with their lips. He’s supposed to be telling Sollux he loves him in precious whispers, not harsh shouts, and… Fuck. Dave breaks the electricity between them, turning around to the kitchen and massaging his temples.

“Sol, I’m sorry. I can’t. I just fucking can’t.” His eyes are burning again and he swears at them. How much can he almost cry in 5 days before he is demoted to being the Huge Fucking Pussy of Time?

Sollux leans back against the couch. “Fucking can’t what?”

Dave leans his forehead against a cupboard, tipping his stupid had back a fraction.

“Dave, you need to fucking talk to me right now. There’th been enough bullshit. I need to fucking know what’th going on here.”

Dave grips the countertop and shrugs, words being shoved back down his throat by the sense of failure slamming down on him. It strains his shoulders, crushes his spined, seals his throat.

“Dave, theriouthly, fuck! Jutht fucking grow up and talk to me!” Sollux doesn’t see the Knight move, but underneath the huge sweater, his shoulders are shaking. “Ugh, fuck thith! I need a thigarette. I’ll be outthide.”

As one skinnysharp hand picks up a mustard-colored bag and the other grasps the doorknob, Dave snaps himself around.

“Sollux, wait! I love you.”


	7. Closure in Negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Huh. Well, this... didn't end up how I planned at all. Mostly pleased, though. Long as balls. Enjoy the end.

Sollux turns. His mismatched eyes bore holes through Dave’s dark lenses. Dave folds his arms under his chest. He feels like a tiny, scared failure of a woodland creature under the troll’s harsh stare. Sollux drops his bag at his feet.

“Take off your glatheth.”

Dave blinks and hesitates, but lifts a shakystrong hand to slip off his glasses and set them on the counter behind him. He fusses with his bangs, no longer held up by the frames, and pushes his sleeves up, hands anxious for something to do.

“Thay it again.”

Dave looks up to see Sollux’s glasses set on the couch beside him, eyes still piercing into his own. He holds the gaze as he repeats

“I love you.”

Hair falls stubbornly back in his face, but he doesn’t dare fidget now. Not when this terrifying, beautiful creature is staring him down. Not when Everything is staring him in the face and can snap him like a twig, and he knows it.

“How long?”

“Before you moved in. Tried to tell you five days ago. Fucked it up.”

Sollux only needs think for a moment before Dave sees realization dawn on his face. Oh. So that’s what he’d meant.

“What would you do if I left right now? Walked away and didn’t come back?”

“Pay full rent and drink so much, my liver says ‘fuck off’ and follows you.”

A compulsive chuckle bumps out of Sollux and Dave offers a hopeful smile.

“So yeah, I’m a freak who’s in love with his scrawny gray roommate. You can go on ahead and take a smoke now. I’ll just sit in the kitchen and stew in my embarrassment until you’re done.”

“Kay,” Sollux shrugs and wrings the doorknob. Daves stomach falls out through his feet and his jaw must have dropped because the asshole of a troll cracks up, grinning and baring entirely too many teeth. Sollux throws the lock shut and crosses to Dave. The feet they’d wedged between them evaporated scarily fast for Dave and, in instants, Sollux’s feet were wedged between his and Dave feels kind of dizzy as he has to tilt his head up and see Sollux looming over him. Sollux bows his back out, hunching himself until his nose is level with Dave’s.

“Hey Dave?”

“Y-yeah?” Sollux snorts at the stutter.

“I love you too, dumbath.”

“You miserable ass,” Dave growls, grabbing a fistful of Sollux’s hair. He tries to pull the Doom prophet towards him, but he’s already pushing forward of his own volition. Dave’s back is arced over the countertop as he mashes his lips against the troll’s, tongue fighting for entry among the too many sharp teeth. Sollux nips at his lips, sucks at his tongue, slips his hands under the cardigan onto Dave’s shoulders.

“Thay it again,” he pants into Dave’s mouth.

“You miserable ass,” Dave smirks, hooking thumbs into Sollux’s belt loops.

“Fuck you.”

“Love you.”

Sollux nuzzles Dave’s neck, grinning softly. A sharpskinny hand brushes the overhuge sweater off Dave’s left shoulder and Sollux does his damndest to plant a kiss on every freckle he finds there.

“Take thith off,” he grumbles, pushing at the damned cardigan. Dave barks a laugh and shrugs it onto the counter, rather amused to find the stupid hat there, as well.

Sollux runs his hands up and down his Knight’s bare arms, squeezing his hands when he reaches their ends. Dave leans forward, easing the strain he hadn’t noticed was mounting in his back, pressing his forehead to Sollux’s temple.

“So this,” he mumbles, “This is a thing now? As in, us, Dave and Sollux, Knight and Mage, Nothing and Everything, this is a thing?”

“Lookth like it. Wait, what wath that latht one?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dave smooths over the slip and takes his hands from Sollux so that he might wrap his arms around Everything. He feels Sollux’s laugh more than he hears it. A long hand wraps in his hair and one settles on the small of his back. Neither of them is sure how long they stay that way, but it doesn’t really matter. Their chests rise and fall in unison. He hates to do it, but Sollux is the one to break the silence.

“Dave,” he murmurs, “Ath much ath I am honethtly loving jutht thtanding here with you and trying to figure how how you thmell tho good, you’ve been breathing on my ear and neck the whole time we’ve been here and it’th theriouthly driving me nutth.”

“’S’at so?” Dave chuckles. He shifts to bring his mouth the barest sliver from Sollux’s ear. “And what should we do about that?”

A righteous shudder rips through the troll and the look on Dave’s face could not be more satisfied.

“Well, you’re in luck. We have optionth. There’th a couch, my bed, your bed…”

Dave blinks at the bold frankness. A smirk threatens to split the right side of his face. “You mean you aren’t going to pick? What happened to all the orders you were just barking?”

“Ran out of thteam. Bipolar. Fight me.”

“Rather not. Better things to do right now.” Dave hooks his thumbs in Sollux’s belt loops once more and steers the now giggling psionic backwards down the hall.

“H-hey, what- fuck you! At leatht let me turn around! “ he laughs, but there’s no venom in him. He holds Dave’s face in his hands and tries to press their foreheads together as he stumbles in mismatched shoes to the Knight’s room. He stares into the Eyes, grinning at how they match only one of his own. “FUCK!” he shouts when Dave steers him into the corner of doorframes that separate their rooms.

“Sorry. Can’t see past this big gray thing in m’way,” Dave smirks, gripping the troll’s hips and pinning him. Insistent lips demand kisses from Sollux and he can’t seem to refuse. The thumbs hooked in his belt loops tug up and tuck themselves just inside the waist of his jeans, faintly scratching just inside his sharp hip bones. He tugs his lips from blunt teeth and moves to the side, tongue making a tentative swipe down the shell of a Knight’s ear. The human in his hands goes rigid. He smirks his lips around the bottom of a pierced ear lobe, tongue reaching up to trace where metal meets skin. He slides his hands from freckled cheeks, down a toned neck, to a defined collarbone and scratches matching trails until he meets a loose, scooped neckline.

“Daaave,” he whispers, “Thith ith a problem. Can we fikth it?”

The Knight of Time tries to squash a moan in his throat, but it still ekes out as a sort of whining whimper. He reaffirms his grip on the bony hips in his hands and steers them off of the door frames and into his room, kicking the door shut in a swift and nonchalant sweep as he passes it. Something proud puffs in his chest as he reaffirms his cool in even the most flustering of situations. Holding Everything by the hips, he guides him to his admittedly overlarge bed before swiveling around and falling back onto it, pulling the delicious sack of clothes hangers into his lap. Bony knees straddle his lap a bit painfully and the tall troll is made even taller, but Dave couldn’t be bothered to give a shit when Sollux rolls his hips like this. He slips his hands up Sollux’s shirt and soaks up the feel of ribs under skin.

The troll traces his Knight’s lips with a clever tongue, teasing and coaxing him and darting away when the other tongue lashes out. He hovers open lips over Dave’s daring him to kiss and denying him the privilege. He tugs again at the loose neck of the human’s shirt.

“Dave, thith ith thtill a problem,” he breathes against his roommate’s lips. Nimble fingers skitter down Dave’s Strife-carved chest and abs to the hem of the problem. He yanks it up with thumbs and forefingers, leaving the rest of his claws to skim red lines up pale peach skin. Dave lifts his arms, taking the shirt and tossing it behind him. A wicked grin reveals still entirely too many teeth for Dave to be quite comfortable with and Sollux shoves him back onto the mattress. The same clever tongue traces the lines he’s left, paints a stripe up the Knight’s sternum, dives into his navel. The stoic Knight writhes under him as he flattens his slim palms over his chest. He pauses to rest a sharp chin just below the navel he’s just assaulted.

“Hey,” he whispers up to the blonde, who strains his neck up to make eye contact.

“Yeah?”

“Do you prefer the term boyfriend or matethprit?”

A rich laugh shakes Dave’s entire body and Sollux melts a bit to hear the unguarded beauty of it. It’s the sort of sound he swears he could get lost in. It sounds like honey on warm toast or whiskey and an old movie. He holds his stare, still waiting for an answer.

“Well, is there any way we can use one for formal occasions and one with friends?” the human chuckles.

“I’m guething boyfriend ith the more casual term?”

“Always knew you were a smart cookie.” A patronizing hand ruffles his hair and an unusually clumsy thumb bumps at the base of a horn. A knot releases in his shoulders and a pang of fear at how easily it leaves rings through his chest.

“But are we matethpritth? Like, not fuckbuddieth or lame old thwitch hitterth who eat dinner together thometimeth, but flushed, caring, committed matethpritth? Ath in, monogamy. Ath in pity. Ath in long term, only want you, hold me clothe at night, think about you every day even when you’re gone matethpritth?”

An odd look crosses Dave’s face. His eyebrows knit and his mouth tugs down at the ends, but he doesn’t look quite angry or sad. He clamps broad hands around Sol’s shoulders and heaves him up to eye level.

“I don’t know if you realize, but I’d punch a wildebeest in the jaw if you wanted me to. I insisted you move in with me so I could keep an eye on you. Every day I don’t see you, I feel like I’m not doing my job. Every time you cry, I want to drink until I can’t remember my name-“

“It’th Dave. Dave Thtrider.” Dave frowns at him, but can’t keep the snort of a laugh from pushing out his nose.

“So yeah, all that shit. I want it. I don’t want a bitch with blue hair. I don’t want to see you on my thrift store knock off. I want you. All day. Err’day. Like matesprits.”

“Really? Err’day? Ath in, what thtonerth thay?”

A grin spreads across Dave’s face and Sollux knows what’s going to happen.

“No. Dave. Dave no.”

It’s a trainwreck. There’s no stopping him. He sucks as much air into his lungs as he can hold and Sollux can only brace himself and try not to cry.

“YOUR LOVE YOUR LOVE YOUR LOVE IS MY DRUUUG! YOUR LOVE YOUR LOVE YOUR LOVE!”

Dave wails at the top of his lungs and Sollux can only scrabble at his chest, giggling. Dave grabs his shoulders again and rolls on top of him, pinning him with lean muscle and shitty lyrics. Sollux laughs harder than he remembers he’s ever managed and laces bony arms around his Knight’s back. He stares into those Eyes for longer than he’d care to count and grins as wave after wave of too-girlish giggles bubbles out of him.

Dave splashes kisses over the face of his prophet, smiling broadly and openly for the first time in years. His thoughts drift to his glasses on the counter, the bottles on his desk, the empty Capri Sun in the trash can, the index card still hiding somewhere in the living room. He plants a line of kisses from the center of Sollux’s forehead, down his slim and noble nose, to the thin lips he’s worshipped for just a bit too long. He grins as his favorite tongue reaches out to taste him. He meets it gladly, melting to it, reveling in its increasingly familiar taste. He breaks the kiss and repulses himself with a saccharine sweet eskimo kiss. The troll underneath him laughs and hurls a barb or two at him, but it doesn’t matter.

He has fucking Everything.

\--END--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, that was going to be smut and then it... wasn't. Stupid characters having different ideas than me...


End file.
